What You Make of It
by njchrispatrick
Summary: There is no stronger love in this world than the love a mother feels for her children. She cries for them, she worries about them, and she would die for them. Harry Potter learns a secret about his mother, his true mother, and one year later that secret becomes just what he needs to finally escape from the duty that was needlessly shoved onto him.
1. A Feeling

**A/N: Thank you ****savya398**** and ****AnarchicMuse**** for betaing!**

**There are no Horcruxes in this story!**

**This is for the pandas!**

* * *

The Black Widow, also known as Natalia Romanova, Natalie Rushman, and currently Natasha Romanoff, sat down on one of the leather-topped bar stools with a sigh. She was in a relatively popular bar in Dublin, Ireland. She had just finished her most recent assignment for the Red Room and because she wasn't expected back for another day she had some time to kill. It had been a very long time since she had done something like this by choice.

"Well, what is a beautiful lady like you doing all alone on a night like this?" asked a voice from her right. She turned to meet the grinning blue eyes of the man who had dropped onto the seat next to her. He was quite handsome, with short cropped dark blonde hair, a rounded jaw, laughing blue eyes, and a five o' clock shadow that outlined his jawline. He was dressed in a tight T-Shirt that hugged his muscular chest. Her well trained eyes immediately picked up on the fact that while his arms were extremely muscular, no doubt signifying constant handling of heavy objects, his torso was not as buff. So the muscles were most likely from use and not bodybuilding.

Natasha smiled widely, showing off her perfect teeth. "How do you know that I am alone?" she asked, laying on a faint fake German accent. It was doubtful that he would know who she was even if he was with the government, with her currently dyed blonde hair and brown contacts helping to disguise her, but better safe than sorry. "I could have a muscular boyfriend in the bathroom."

He shook his head as his grin widened. "No man would leave your side unless the world was on fire, darling."

As much as Natasha tried to smother the feeling, she was flattered. Not many people would truly, honestly compliment her like that. Most were either terrified of her reputation or they wanted something from her. Even though she was a trained assassin she did have feelings.

"Cliff Barrowman," he introduced himself as he held out his right hand.

"Annika Schmidt," she answered easily, pulling the name out of thin air as she shook his hand. It was not as rough as the hand of a worker so he most likely did not often come into contact with rough surfaces. Unlike most people his fingers felt very strong and yet somehow nimble at the same time. What kind of job had that?

He grinned again, making his already young face look even younger. She wondered how he would feel if he learned how old she really was. "Well Ms. Schmidt," he said, keeping her hand in his. "Would you care for a dance?" He gestured to the dance floor.

She waged an internal battle with herself for a moment before giving in and shrugging. "Why not."

* * *

When Clint had gone into the Irish pub after his most recent mission for SHIELD he had just been planning on some friendly conversation and a good drink. Advanced as SHIELD was, it lacked both those things. Well, Coulson _did _make some good entertainment when pranked but Clint couldn't do it much or he would get caught.

He had been quite surprised to see an attractive blonde sitting all alone at the bar, a tired slump to her shoulders. And, being a friendly man who did appreciate a pretty face, he sidled up to her and introduced himself. One thing led to another and he found her accompanying him home that night. One thing was for sure, she was as good as she looked.

When he woke up the next morning, a faint hangover lingering from the night before, she was gone. He felt a faint sting of disappointment at that. All that was left was a note on his bedside table that she had to catch a flight home. It was only then that he realized that they had forgotten protection.

His first instinct was to track her, but he didn't want to ask Fury to look into the woman for fear of the reason behind Clint's interest being brought up. A grown man he may be but Fury was an annoying bastard when he was smug. He decided that he would keep an eye on his phone just in case. While he normally switched phones out every month or so, he could keep this one 'just in case'. He dearly hoped that he hadn't gotten her pregnant. As much as he liked children he could never bring a normal person into his crazy life, no less a child.

* * *

Natasha stared at the medical examiner for the Red Room in disbelief. His emotionless gaze just bored into her, his face blank.

"Pregnant?" she breathed in horror. Not horror that she was pregnant, no, but in the fact that _they_ knew about the baby. She did not trust her employers and the feeling was mutual. She knew that if she had a baby they would turn it into a weapon. That was not something that she would allow to be done to the baby like it had been done to her.

The doctor nodded. "Yes. Pregnant. About six weeks." Without another word he turned and strode out of the room. She knew where he was going. He was going to alert the leaders of the Red Room, the very ones that she had to avoid. The second that the man was gone she was attempting to pry the grate off of the vents that traversed the entire facility.

After a few minutes she gave up, knowing that even with her increased abilities she could never escape from the heavily fortified building that she was currently in. She leaned back against the wall and slid back down onto her heels as she buried her face in her hands.

Ten minutes later she heard the door open and the click of shoes as someone entered. She slowly raised her face and her eyes met the man's. He seemed perfectly unnoticeable with lank dishwater blonde hair, hazel eyes, round glasses, and a round face. Of course he was probably the perfect intelligence agent because of how easily he could blend into a crowd.

"Well, well, Ms. Romanoff," he purred in a cultured smooth voice as he smiled down at her. He looked completely calm and at ease, no doubt not scared of her in the slightest. "Isn't this a surprise. Why, when I heard that you had morning sickness and back pains I expected that you had picked up some sort of virus. I mean, while it is true that we have enhanced your natural abilities you aren't immune to _every_ disease. But pregnant! My, my…"

Natasha shifted slightly. She would die before she allowed her child to fall into these monsters' hands. She didn't care what it took, she didn't care what she had to give up, but she would keep her unborn child away from them. "What do you want?"

He grinned at her, showing off clean white teeth. "Why, your baby of course! A child of the Black Widow would inherit all your…gifts. Even better, because it would be born with them and not have been tested, we could experiment and give it even _more_! When we're done the famous Captain America will look like nothing compared to your little brat."

Natasha bared her teeth at the man. "Like hell I'll let you take my baby away from me."

The man threw his head back and laughed loudly at her. "What, do you honestly think that you can escape us? We who made you who you are, _darling_?" He scoffed. "Please. We know you. Every move, every thought, every plan is based off of what we taught you." He took a few steps back toward the door. "And don't worry, you won't be stuck here. If we tried to keep you here then you would just escape or kill yourself in the process, and that is something that we cannot afford." He turned and opened the door, stepping through it. As he passed the threshold he paused and looked at her over his shoulder. "You are free to go, Natasha, but know that you cannot escape us."

* * *

Natasha sat down on the park bench with a sigh, blowing a lock of shoulder-length ruby-red hair out of her eyes. It was a lighter shade than she normally had but it was better than blonde. She was in a park near West Country, England.

After the Red Room had let her go she had gotten as far away from them as she could. She had headed toward Ireland, where it all began. She had searched and searched but she hadn't been able to find the man who was, strangely enough, the father of her child. However, there had been no leads. His voice had an American accent so he was most likely just visiting. Of course, it wouldn't be any better if she did find him. The Red Room would still find a way to track them down, no matter what.

Natasha dropped her face into her hands in desperation. She knew that she could not run from the Red Room. They would always find her. The fact that they had no qualms about releasing her showed that they would be able to find her.

"Are you alright?" asked someone.

Natasha looked up and met the eyes of someone who, in another life, could have been her sister. She had fiery auburn wavy hair, eyes that were as green as emeralds, pale skin like porcelain, and delicate features.

Natasha stared at the woman for a moment before shaking her head slightly and shooting the woman a weak smile. "Yea, I'm fine."

The woman smiled at her and held out a hand. "My name's Lily. Lily Potter. What's yours?"

"Natalie Barrowman," she answered quickly. Then she winced inwardly at her usage of the last name of the man who got her pregnant.

"Nice to meet you Natalie," said Lily. She gestured behind her. "This is my husband, James."

From behind Lily stepped out another person, a man. He was average height with hair that seemed to defy gravity and a pair of round spectacles perched in front of hazel eyes. "Hi," he greeted, waving a hand. "Erm…nice to meet you, I guess."

Natasha cracked a small smile and returned the wave. It was such a completely _normal_ couple that it had thrown her for a moment.

"Sorry to bother you, I just thought that it looked like something was wrong," said Lily.

Natasha shrugged weakly. "You could say that."

Lily's bright smile faded into a frown. "What do you mean? Is there something that I can do to help?"

Natasha snorted derisively. "Not unless you can turn invisible and make me disappear from all living memory."

"Why is that?" asked James.

Natasha stilled. What did she have to lose by telling them, honestly? She was a loner, always had been, but this was much bigger than her. This was the life of her child. "There's a man," she started slowly. "He's after me. But not just me, he's…" Natasha sighed again. "I'm pregnant. He's after my baby."

She looked around the park for a moment and froze. Standing about forty or so feet away from her, almost invisible in the shadow of an oak tree, was the man from the Red Room. He was wearing a standard cookie-cutter suit and holding a briefcase, looking like any other businessman in the area. But she would never forget his face. It was him.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her arm. She glanced to her left and saw James standing next to her. He was meeting Lily's eyes and it was like an unspoken conversation passed between them.

"What do you think?" he asked. "Should we?"

Lily's lips tightened as she glanced from Natasha to the man then to James. "Something doesn't feel right, James. It feels…off. But she's right, that man is bad news."

Natasha glanced back and forth in confusion. "What is it?"

James turned to her and shot her a small smile. "Natalie, we've got something to tell you."

* * *

_8 Months Later_

Natasha breathed heavily as she laid her head back on the pillow behind her. She turned her head to the right as she watched Lily wrap a small object in a light blue baby blanket.

"Congratulations Natalie," Lily said as she stared down at the object in the blanket. "It's a boy." She took a couple of swaying steps towards Natasha and leaned down. "Say hello to your Mama, little one."

Natasha shook her head. "No, no I can't," she muttered. "I can't look at him."

Lily paused and cocked her head to the side slightly. "Why, Natalie?"

Natasha tried to tear her gaze away from the now-squirming little bundle. "If I see him then it will be harder," she whispered.

Natasha had spent the last eight months in hiding at the Potters' little cottage in Godric's Hollow, protected by the Fidelius Charm. Finding out about magic had been quite the shocker, just as much as finding out that James and Lily were magical. They had decided to help her when they learned that she was in trouble and once she gave them the basic gist of what had happened.

The eight months had been torture for her, for someone who spent all of their time moving. Spending more than a week in a little house doing nothing had nearly driven her insane, but she persevered. It was all worth it to keep her baby safe.

She ended up accidentally meeting one of the Potters' friends. His name was Sirius Black. He had entered into the house one night at about midnight to check up on James and Lily. Natasha, not knowing him, had broken both his arms and knocked him out before tying him to a chair. It was a strange introduction to say the least but they did get along afterwards. He would occasionally stop in to talk to her.

James and Lily had established a plan for her. She knew that she could not keep her baby, and they had been having issues conceiving one. They offered to take her baby and she agreed. They would wipe her memory and get rid of all traces, making it seem like she had never been there. No one would ever find her child. To complete it they were, at her request, sterilizing her so that this could never happen to another child.

"Natalie, you should at least take this chance to see him," said Lily, leaning in closer. "If you don't then there may come a day when you regret it."

Natasha turned her head from where she had been looking out the window and met Lily's eyes. "Alright," she agreed. "Alright, I'll do it."

She pushed herself up a bit and let Lily lay her son in her arms. As soon as she saw his face she felt like her heart would break. He was so small, so fragile, so innocent and untainted. Even as a newborn she could see resemblances to both her and to his father in his features.

His little eyes were closed but she could tell that the size and shape would be just like his father's. The color of the few hairs growing out of his head was hard to tell, but it did seem to have a golden coppery color that was in-between her red and his father's dark blonde. His nose had the same rounded bottom as hers and it would most likely match it one day. His ears and lips were like hers as well. It was rather hard to tell but the jaw and wide chin looked like his father's, tempering out her more elegant features. It was not a long shot to guess that he would be very handsome one day.

"He's quite a beautiful baby," commented Lily.

Natasha felt a tear sliding down her cheek and she quickly rubbed her shoulder against her cheek to remove it. "Yes," agreed Natasha. "He'll be a handsome man." She stared at him for a long moment, memorizing ever feature of his face. She knew that, if she ever did see him again, he would not be this baby. Right now, and for only this one small moment in time, he was just her son. But if she did meet him again then it wouldn't be for years later; he would be a grown man with his own set of parents. She would be only a biological connection and nothing else. James and Lily would have raised him and he would be their son, not hers. "Andrei," she murmured softly as she stroked the strands of coppery hair.

"Pardon?"

Natasha glanced over at Lily. "If…if I named him then I would name him Andrei."

Lily sat down on the bed. "It's a very interesting name. What is it from?"

"It's Russian. I'm Russian, actually. The name means 'strong' or 'manly'." Perhaps the name was a hope that he would grow up strong so that he could protect himself. The world was a dark and cruel place, something that she had long since known. However, the thought of seeing her son hurt by that dark world scared her more than anything she had ever done.

Lily smiled at her. Lily had been a blessing in the months before. The woman was really like the sister that Natasha never had. "It's a very nice name. But why not-"

"He can't have that name," Natasha interrupted quickly. "He can't have any connection to me. He needs a nice, normal name. There must be no way for them to suspect that he is…my son." One day they would tell him about her, and when that day came he could come find her if he so chose. They had a code phrase established that would break the Memory Charm and awaken her dormant memories. But if not, if he didn't come to find her, then she didn't want to live with the pain of never seeing him again.

Lily's smile shrank and she nodded sadly. "Alright. How about-"

"No!" Natasha interrupted again, holding up a hand. "Don't tell me. If something happens then I can't know _anything_." She looked down at her son for another moment. She nearly sobbed aloud when he blinked open his eyes and his gaze met hers. Instead of the typical cloudy baby-blue his were a dark blue the color of sapphires, like his father's. His little head tilted ever so slightly to the side as he looked up at her, and a little fist poked out of the blanket and waved around a little.

Natasha closed her eyes tightly as she leaned in and gently placed a kiss on the top of his head. "я тебя люблю," she whispered. "I love you." Then she turned to Lily, opened her eyes, and nodded. "It's time."

* * *

_Almost 16 Years Later_

Harry looked out the window of his bedroom in the Dursleys' as he watched the moon rise into the sky. It was summertime again. School had just ended and, like always, he got shipped back to his own personal hell. His 'friends' just forgot about him.

All he had gotten so far was a couple of letters from Ron, Hermione, and, strangely enough, Ginny, telling him not to blame himself for Sirius's death. They all told him about how it wasn't his fault and about how he couldn't have known.

Harry didn't blame himself, though. Not at all. He blamed Dumbledore, Voldemort, and even Sirius, but certainly not himself. He blamed Voldemort for killing Sirius, Snape for not teaching him Occlumency, Dumbledore for being a stupid old fool who trusted blindly, and Sirius for being reckless, but not himself. He was a _child_ and yet everyone expected him to fight their war for them.

Dumbledore was a fool. He wasn't Dark, he wasn't evil, he wasn't a control freak; he was just stupid. Believing in a prophecy given by a fraud of a Seer and believing that a teenager was the only one who could kill Voldemort. Even worse, he thought that the best time to give Harry the news was after he had watched his godfather get killed. He had let Snape, a grown man who was nothing better than a bully, take out petty vengeance on the child of his nemesis. No, Dumbledore had already proven himself to have extremely poor judgment.

The Wizarding World was not worth it in the end. It was full of bias and prejudice and spite. It was seen as perfection yet it was all an illusion. For the muggleborns it held nothing but prejudice, for the half-bloods it was low pay and less work, and for the purebloods it was inbreeding and extinction.

In the end Harry didn't even belong there. Sirius had told him, the summer before when Harry was in Grimmauld Place, a secret about Harry's origins. He had been so shocked when Sirius had approached him and shared the secret. The secret that only he and James and Lily had known. The secret about how Harry was adopted.

Oh, hadn't that just turned his world upside-down. Hearing about the mysterious Natalie Barrowman, the woman who had birthed him. Hearing about how James and Lily had met her while she was running from people coming to hurt him. Hearing about how, in the end, she gave up everything to keep him alive. She had let the Potters change his face, change his name, and change his persona all to protect her son.

But now Sirius was dead. Sirius was dead, his friends wanted him to dance to Dumbledore's fiddle along with them, and the so-called 'Blood Wards' were nothing but crap. Heck, Harry didn't even know how he had magic! The odds that he was a muggleborn were slim-to-none; what were the chances that Lily and James would adopt a magical child from a runaway muggle?

Harry stood from his bed and walked toward the window. He looked out at the lawn and watched one of the bushes by the front door rustle. He couldn't hold back an eye roll when a bottle of Firewhiskey rolled out from under it. Mundungus, great. Harry felt _so_ protected.

Harry paused, suddenly realizing what it meant. Mundungus was a fool, the worst member of the Order. If Harry wanted to, he could get by that fool with little work. If he left the Dursleys' then he could just _leave_. He could find someone to help him break the disguise on him, he could change his name, and he could leave the country. No more war for him, and if Dumbles or his cronies tried to come after him then he could disappear forever.

Suddenly he felt a burning in his throat. He pulled his sleeve up to his throat and began to hack and cough violently into the fabric. He grimaced when he pulled away and saw blood staining it.

That had been happening every once in a while ever since the school year ended. He wasn't sure what had started it, perhaps something in the Department of Mysteries or a stray Death Eater curse, but he had been ill ever since. In the beginning it was just a lot of coughing and itchy throat but it had recently degenerated into fits where he would hack up blood.

He shook his head and began to grab a few of his most treasured possessions. Anything else that he needed he would just steal from the Dursleys; it wasn't like they had given him any care or support when he grew up. If he was going out, then he was going to go out with a bang.

* * *

**A/N: I hope that it doesn't seem too cliche. I was originally going to be just Clint but he didn't seem big enough for this story. I then tried a bit of Natasha and it became so much better, so I am sticking with her. Imagine adding Harry into all the UST that is already there!**

**First chapter is to gauge opinions, just like the first chapter of A Happy Accident: 70 Years was.**

**Please leave all questions, comments, concerns, and rebuttals in the review box.**

**I hope that the ferrets are appropriately wowed.**

******Did I make anyone cry with the goodbye scene?**


	2. A Hope

**A/N: ****There have been many guesses about Harry's mysterious illness, from Tuberculosis to Cancer. Read on and find out.**

**Sorry to all those who are hoping for a helpful!Remus like in _A Happy Accident_. In this it is Sirius; albeit dead Sirius.**

* * *

Harry stepped out into Diagon Alley, the hood of the jacket he had stolen from Dudley pulled down low over his eyes. He didn't want to take the chance of anybody recognizing him. Most would be suspicious of a hooded figure but the fact that he was wearing muggle clothing would deter suspicion.

Getting to the Alley from the Dursleys had been pathetically easy. Vernon (Harry had stopped calling him Uncle Vernon a while ago) had ceased locking Harry's door, thinking that the wizards would come to get him if he did. Harry had just swiped a handful of bills from Petunia's purse, a jacket from the closet, and left. He left his trunk, only taking the necessities—the photo album from Hagrid, some change left over from Hogsmeade trips, the Marauders Map, and lastly his, or rather James's, Invisibility Cloak. He had sent Hedwig on to Luna's, knowing that she would take care of Hedwig without any questions.

Harry quickly made his way to Gringotts, avoiding the few people walking around. Now that the public knew that Voldemort was back, many were hiding in their houses. The Prophet had switched from calling him a liar to calling him a hero. The Wizarding World, as always, switched their beliefs in an instant. Harry really did not like people who acted like sheep.

When he stepped into the gleaming white building he quickly made his way to the nearest teller. He was planning on withdrawing all of his money to make sure that he would never have to return here.

"I'm here to make a withdrawal," he said clearly, placing his key on the desk in front of the goblin. He was very happy that he had refused to let Mrs. Weasley borrow it in the summer before Second Year; she might have still had it. He could still remember the shocked expression on her face when he refused to let her take it.

The goblin teller slowly looked up at him, a bored expression adorning its pointy features. It sighed heavily. "A standard vault visit and manual withdrawal?" it drawled.

Harry cocked his head to the side slightly. He hadn't known that you didn't always have to visit the vault. "Erm…I would prefer not. Actually I plan to empty the vault and convert all the currency to muggle currency."

The goblin stiffened and its beady eyes narrowed. Harry could see the annoyance that had flared up; no doubt the goblins _loathed_ losing customers. "That can be arranged," it ground out. "Would you like for the payment in cash or a transfer to a muggle branch? A muggle credit card will be issued to you if you choose the bank."

It took a moment for those words to register but when they did Harry grinned. The goblins were so much more helpful than he thought they would be! "Sure, that'd be great!"

A glimmer of interest appeared in the goblin's eyes. "A full vault removal? What exactly are you up to, Mr. Potter?"

Harry weighed his options before finally shrugging. "I'm ditching the Wizarding World," he said bluntly. "The wizards expect me to fight a war for them. Well, you know what? They can go screw themselves."

Suddenly the goblin smiled. It was not a nice smile, all pointy teeth and malice. "Is that so?" It chuckled. "Well, Mr. Potter, then the least I can do is help you." It pulled a piece of parchment and a quill out from under the desk and began to write on it.

"Very well," it said after a few moments. "All money will be transferred to the Bank of London." The goblin snapped its fingers and the parchment vanished in a plume of smoke. Where it had once sat was now a small plastic rectangle. A muggle credit card. The goblin held it out to him.

"Thank you," said Harry as he took the card. Starting over was a big step. He was ditching his old life completely, and that wasn't easily done. But he was also grateful. When he had been shoved into the Wizarding World he had a pre-established reputation as a hero. Now, however, he had a clean slate and a fresh start. "Age won't be a problem?"

"No," said the goblin with a touch of weariness. "You were legally emancipated upon being entered into the Triwizard Tournament; it was a competition for adults, was it not?"

"Yea." Harry grimaced to himself. There was yet another thing that he wished he had been told. It would have been nice to escape the Dursleys' earlier. It obviously did not extend to magic, considering how he had received a notice when he had used the Patronus Charm, but it wasn't like he cared if he was expelled.

"Initiating a complete shutdown of Vault 687," intoned the goblin, snapping its fingers once again. There was a pause before it nodded. "It is done." The slightly scary smile returned. "You are effectively, now and forever, free of the wizards. Good luck."

He smiled and nodded. It figured that the goblins would enjoy spiting the Wizarding World. "Thanks."

With that Harry Potter dropped the plastic card into his pocket, turned on his heel, and walked out of the Wizarding World forever.

* * *

Natasha grabbed a pen and used the end of it to poke the small card that was sitting on her pillow. Her lips pulled into a frown as nothing happened. It still sat there, plain and white aside from the looping handwriting in the middle of it. She was puzzled as to where it had come from; no one besides her had access to her room.

After the events in the Battle of Manhattan Tony had invited all the other Avengers to live with him in the newly renovated Start Tower. Thor had to head back home but he promised that he would stay there whenever he returned. The Captain had no other option, and according to him it would help him get acclimated to the 21st century. Bruce had felt that it was too dangerous for the others but Tony wore him down. Clint had jumped at the chance. Natasha hadn't really wanted to but Fury had almost ordered her to, if only so she could keep an eye on them all.

With a sigh Natasha finally decided that the card was not going to explode, release poisonous gas, or in some way kill her. She grabbed it and lifted it up to her eye level, flipping it over to see if there was anything on the back of it. There was just a signature on the bottom right-hand corner. _Sirius Black_.

She flipped it back over and read the three Latin words written on the front. _Nam filium revertentem_. She automatically translated those in her head. _The son returns_.

Natasha barely had time to ponder what that meant before a blinding pain smashed into her head with enough force to send her falling back onto her rear. She didn't notice the pain, however; she was overwhelmed with the wave of images that were pouring into her mind. Images raced through her mind's eye at a blinding speed, restoring the once-lost memories to her. For her it was like every moment of those nine months had just been lived. Every moment, every emotion, every feeling was as fresh as the day it had happened.

A choked sob burst from her throat as the raw emotion clawed at her heart. It felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest. She hugged her legs close to her as she tried to make peace with the warring emotions. One fist was pushed against her mouth to silence any more untoward sobs.

Son. She had a son. A beautiful baby boy, who she had to give up for his own safety. He was so small, so fragile. Even now she could picture him in her arms, large blue eyes looking up at her from a little face.

Then it struck Natasha. That was nearly sixteen years ago. Sixteen. Her baby…was not such a baby anymore. He was older now, having grown up with James and Lily as his parents. But that was the point, wasn't it? It was all for his safety.

A part of her remembered Lily's insistence for Natasha to see him as a baby, and Natasha could not be gladder of that now.

So why had Sirius returned her memories now? It was supposed to be her son who did it. She should have remembered as he stood there in front of her, not because of some words printed on a card. Why had Sirius seen fit to do it now?

Natasha took a deep breath as she pushed herself to her feet. First things first, she had to know what she had missed. She had to find out what was going on in the lives of James and Lily Potter.

* * *

Ollivander stared at Harry, his pale gaze boring into Harry's emerald ones. The wandmaker's hair stuck up in all directions in a way reminiscent of Einstein's.

"You're serious?" Harry asked in shock. "Like, you're completely positive of this? It isn't just a hunch?"

Ollivander nodded in confirmation. "Yes. My gift has never failed me before."

Harry collapsed against the backrest of his seat as the information sank in. He had a suspicion about what was going on before, but this…was not what he had wanted, obviously. "So I'm basically screwed then, huh?"

Ollivander had cornered him while Harry had been leaving the alley and had pulled Harry into his store. Harry had been hesitant at first, unsure about why the wandmaker had wanted to talk to him, but now that he was happy that he did.

Apparently Ollivander's mother was a Druid, a tree spirit. Through her he had inherited a few gifts, including Magical Sight. He could see the magic in every magical being. Apparently, in Harry, the magic was wrong.

According to Ollivander Harry didn't _have_ any magic. He was a muggle. Yet somehow he did. The old man had told him that unlike all wizards, whose magic came from the center of their chest, Harry's came from his scar. Harry knew what that meant; his magic came from Voldemort.

But that was not all. The magic originated from his scar, where Voldemort had attempted to kill him, but it had not stayed there. It had begun to spread. Ollivander told him that it was no longer tied to the scar, like it was when he was eleven and first came to the wand store, and it was seeping throughout his body. And his body, a body not naturally made to handle magic, could not take it. It was killing him; tearing apart his body from the inside-out. That was where the blood had come from.

Ollivander sighed. "I am afraid that I honestly do not know. This is unprecedented. Never before has a muggle possessed magic. However, you will not survive the amount of energy surging within you."

Harry lifted a hand up, examining it as if he could see the magic poisoning him. "So…is there anything I can do to add some time?"

"Avoid concentrated magic," Ollivander advised. "Things like potions and portkeys will accelerate your condition, adding to the wear and tear. There is no cure for this unfortunately. Even if you had your organs replaced, the magic would just start tearing those apart. There are very few problems that cannot be solved with magic. The last time that there was a sickness incurable with magic, was Atlantis. Because there was no cure, it was judged that the plague must never leave the island. They sank it and all the people on it."

Harry nodded, mulling over the rather shocking new information. He was dying. It did seem fitting, didn't it? He finally escaped the Wizarding World, he finally was free, and he was going to die. "Volde-"

"Do not speak his name!" Ollivander quickly interjected.

Harry sighed in exasperation. "Fine, _You-Know-Who_ possessed me at the end of the school year. He used our connection to do it. Could that be why my magic messed up?"

The wandmaker nodded slowly, thinking on it. "Yes. His magic most likely reached out towards yours on instinct when it sensed the familiarity, trying to draw it back in. That probably set it off." He smiled lightly. "On the positive side, your magic will become much easier to control. It will be like accidental magic; you want it, it happens."

This made a wry grin spread across his face. "So there is one positive side. I'm going to die, but in the meantime I get super-powerful wandless magic!"

Ollivander leaned back in his chair and spread his hands slightly. "Essentially, yes."

* * *

Natasha sighed wearily as she ran a hand through her hair. Tracking down people was hard work normally, and now it was made doubly as hard by the fact that the magicals were rarely in public records.

She was trying to track down her son. Reading about the explosion at Godric's Hollow and finding out that James and Lily had been killed was like another blow to her heart. They were one of only a handful of people that Natasha could call her friends. However, her son had not died with them. According to the news report, Harry James Potter—as Lily and James apparently named him—was alive.

Natasha cursed in Russian when the search came up blank yet again. Harry Potter was far too common a name, and she had no clues to his whereabouts. Sirius was the next most logical choice but he was a wanted fugitive in the muggle world. Natasha wished that she knew what for.

Suddenly she remembered a person that Lily mentioned, a sister. A sister that Lily had constantly complained about. What was her name? Something to do with a flower…Petunia! Natasha searched for Petunia Evans.

Finally, a result. Apparently Petunia Evans married a man named Vernon Dursley. Natasha could remember Lily showing her a picture of the man; he was _horribly_ obese with a walrus mustache and beady little eyes. In the wedding picture Petunia looked far from happy.

Natasha cross-referenced Petunia Dursley with Harry Potter, and finally something came up. Apparently Petunia Dursley was listed as the guardian of her nephew, Harry James Potter.

Natasha smiled triumphantly as she copied the number given for Petunia into her phone. She bit her lip in anticipation as it rang.

Natasha cursed her worry and teenager-like angst. She prided herself on emotional control, yet this entire incident had pushed her _so_ far past her limit. She hadn't felt this emotionally compromised in decades. It literally felt like she would burst into tears if something else happened.

_"Hello?"_

"Is this Petunia Dursley?" Natasha asked, getting straight to the point.

_"Yes. Who is this?"_ The woman's voice was high and slightly whiny in pitch.

"My name is Natalie Barrowman," lied Natasha easily. "I'm with the government."

_"The government?"_ Petunia's voice rose in pitch slightly. _"Has something happened to Vernon?"_

"No miss, this is about your nephew, Harry Potter."

_"Oh, him."_ Petunia's voice switched, now containing intense dislike. _"I don't know where the boy is. He just left and I haven't seen him since."_

"Left?" asked Natasha, clenching the phone tightly in her fist. "What do you mean?"

_"I mean that the boy ran away, about three days ago. Not a word, he was just gone. Little brat stole money from us as well."_

Natasha ignored the woman's rant. She had looked hard and now that she finally found out where her son was he was gone. "Do you know where he has gone?"

_"No. And I don't care. He was a worthless good-for-nothing anyway."_

Natasha felt the intense urge to hit the woman.

_"He's gone and I hope that he doesn't come back. What part of the government did you say that you were with?"_

"That will be all, thank you," said Natasha, cutting the call off. She clenched her fist tightly, imagining that it was the shrew's neck. How dare that woman call her son worthless? Natasha would give anything for him, do anything, and that woman had the audacity to call him worthless.

She scowled to herself. Now she had to find her son without any place to start. Natasha knew that she could not do that. She would need access to many resources, things that she could not normally. And that meant that she had to tell the other Avengers what was going on, because she needed their help.

* * *

Harry sat down on the large bed behind him and flung himself back, stretching out across the mattress. He was in a hotel not far from Diagon Alley. He had checked into it for the night so that he could get himself organized. The receptionist had looked at him strangely, but luckily had not commented on his age. He counted himself lucky that he had a more mature look to his face, no doubt brought about by not having much of a childhood.

Feeling the familiar burning sensation in his throat he quickly grabbed a hankerchief from his pocket and held it to his face as he gave a few throaty coughs into it. When he removed the cloth there were, as before, several red speckles adorning it. He sighed and tucked the cloth away. There went the lining of his stomach, no doubt.

Now that he had his money, he was free to do so much more. The first thing was to go shopping for necessities like clothing. Next he would have to find a more permanent place to live. Maybe he could-

"AAGH!" A piercing shriek (a _manly _shriek, as he later told himself) erupted from Harry's throat as a small wrinkled figure suddenly appeared before him with a _pop_. Harry instinctively pushed himself back and away from the ugly thing but in the process he inadvertently pushed himself off the bed. With a yelp he slammed into the carpeted floor of the hotel room. "Ow…" he muttered as he sat up. He cast another glance at the figure and realized who it was.

"Kreacher scared filthy little half-blood, yes he did," Kreacher muttered to himself, happiness coloring his words. "Maybe Kreacher is lucky and filthy half-blood killed itself in the fall."

"Wish not granted," commented Harry dryly as he pushed himself to his feet. He rolled his eyes at the House-Elf's grimace. "What do you want, Kreacher?"

Kreacher scowled heavily as he glared at Harry. "Nasty Blood-Traitor master forced Kreacher to visit filthy little half-blood. Kreacher did not wish to obey but he had no choice." He pulled his ears pitifully.

Harry just raised one eyebrow. "Sirius sent you? That's not possible; Sirius died." Contrary to what one might expect Harry did not blame Kreacher for Sirius's death. The elf and Sirius had not gotten along well at all, and Sirius was just as rough with the elf as the elf was with him.

Kreacher sneered at him. "Blood-Traitor master ordered Kreacher to visit godson if Master died. Kreacher was told to wait until nasty godson was all alone."

"But I've been alone at least a dozen times over the past week!" Harry blurted out in annoyance.

The ugly elf's lips turned up in a mockery of a smile. "Kreacher be trying to avoid spells and enchantments watching over godson. Kreacher just making sure." He grinned, showing off a few rotten teeth.

"Fine. What did Sirius want you to tell me?"

"Not tell. Give." The elf reached into its pillowcase outfit and withdrew a glass bottle. It was a potion flask, obviously, though it was unlike one that Harry had ever seen. The top was a long thin neck, ending with a bulb at the bottom. Inside the flask was about two cups worth of glittering blue potion.

"What's that?" Harry asked, taking a few steps towards Kreacher and leaning towards it to get a better look. He jerked back when the elf shoved the flask into his face and, getting the message, took it from the miserable creature. "Anything else?"

Kreacher didn't respond, just snapping his fingers and vanishing with another _pop_.

"I guess not," Harry muttered to himself as he examined the flask. Then he noticed the label. _Revealing Potion – Take one spoonful a day until empty_.

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he realized what this was. This would remove the disguise that Sirius told him about.

* * *

_"If I'm adopted then why do I look like…James and Lily?" Harry asked Sirius as they stood in the Black tapestry room. Like all the other rooms this one was dusty, dark, and stuffy._

_"Lily took care of that," answered Sirius. "She was a whiz with potions. She spent the months leading up to your birth designing this brand-new potion designed specifically for disguises. It was like Polyjuice, except it lasted until the antidote was administered and could not be detected. Actually I think that she was planning on publishing it once you were older; she wanted to wait to keep anyone from discovering it on you."_

_"Wow," breathed Harry in amazement. "So my mum…Lily…was really helpful to Natalie?"_

_"Helpful's a word for it. Those two were like sisters separated at birth sometimes. Lily was very supportive of Natalie and treated her better than her own sister. I guess that it was Lily's natural instinct to protect those who needed help."_

_They stood in silence for a moment before Harry spoke again. "Is there still any of the antidote?"_

_"Thinking of going **au naturel**, huh?" Sirius chuckled. "Yea, Lils made plenty of the Revealing Potion, just in case. I would give some to you now but that might not be wise. If you do want to go back to your natural look then I would advise waiting until around the time that you turn seventeen."_

* * *

This was _exactly_ what he needed. No doubt the wizards would come to find him in an attempt to coerce him back to their world, and he needed another way to avoid him. Besides, he wanted to see what he looked like. He wanted to be able to look in the mirror and know that he was his own person, if it was the last thing that he did. And there was an extremely high chance that it would be.

Harry didn't have a spoon, so he decided to do a rough estimate. He removed the stopped from the phial and watched the blue potion slosh around in the bottle for a moment. Then, taking a deep breath, he poured a rough estimate of a spoonful into his mouth and swallowed.

The first thing that he felt was a sharp pain in his side. It did not last long, only a couple of seconds, but he knew that it was the backlash from being exposed to the magic of the potion. Then came an incredibly strange feeling, like he was being doused in water. The feeling raced from the crown of his head down to his feet, and made him shiver.

Once the feeling had passed Harry stepped into the bathroom, searching his reflection in the mirror for any visible differences in his appearance. He noticed one immediately. His hair.

He had once compared the natural state of his hair to the way people's hair looked when you rubbed a balloon across it. Chunks of his hair stuck up in all directions with no apparent pattern. It made his hair impossible to brush, style, or control. Now, however, that strange gravity-defying force that governed his hair was gone. His black hair now lay down across his head in a messy yet flat manner. He noticed how, without the space-hair, he looked less ridiculous and unkempt.

After examining his reflection for a minute more he decided that there were no other visible effects of the potion. However, it did make him curious about how much would change over the time he would be taking it. Ollivander had estimated that he would have about two and a half months before his body failed, three if he was careful. Considering that potions were highly discouraged, Harry would lower his time to a month and a half, maybe two if he was careful. The amount of potion suggested that it would take at least a week to finish it, maybe more. He didn't want to take too much each day for fear of accidentally accelerating his condition to the point that he died. The pain earlier suggested that more potion would also equal more pain.

"People always say to live like you're dying," he muttered to himself as he stared into the eyes of his reflection. "Well, it's time to give that a try. Fuck the world who says that I'm their savior; my life is mine, for however long I have left."

* * *

Dumbledore sat down at the head of the long table in the dining room of Grimmauld Place. The entire Order of the Phoenix was gathered together in the dusty room. Their meetings had become more and more frequent now that Voldemort was out in the open.

"Now that we are all here," began Dumbledore, looking around. "We need to discuss Harry Potter."

Snape let out a loud snort. "Of course it's Potter; it's always Potter."

"Severus," Dumbledore reprimanded. "Harry is important. He is the key to defeating to Voldemort."

"How exactly is he supposed to do that?" Tonks piped in suddenly, her hair an electric blue. "You all haven't been giving him any information or teaching him shit."

"Language young lady!" Mrs. Weasley interjected hotly, swelling up like a balloon.

Tonks shot her a glare. "You are not my mother, so stop acting like it." Then she turned back to Dumbledore. "Well?"

"Lily died to save Harry," Dumbledore explained, trying to soothe the Auror. "Her love is what can defeat Voldemort."

"Love?" Tonks snorted loudly. "So what, Harry is going to give Voldemort kisses and hugs until he dies?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. Why did she not understand? Love was the most powerful force in the world; the muggle musician Bob Marley understood that. "His love will repel Voldemort."

"It's okay Tonks," said Remus soothingly, reaching over to pat the Metamorphagus's hand. "Professor Dumbledore knows what he is talking about." The werewolf hadn't been the same since Sirius's death. He seemed to lay the blame on both Harry and Sirius's shoulders.

"I will collect Harry to bring him to the Weasleys in a week's time," continued Dumbledore. "I am sure that he would be glad to see his friends. Now, we need to-" Suddenly he cut off as a small figure appeared on the table with a _pop_. "Kreacher?"

Many of the Order members wrinkled up their noses in disgust at the foul little House-Elf. His pillowcase outfit was dusty and caked with muck and his hairy ears were filled with black gunk. "Nasty mudblood and Blood-Traitor group is in Black House," he muttered.

"Kreacher," repeated Dumbledore. "Why are you here?"

Kreacher sneered at the old man. "Kreacher be carrying out his master's last orders."

"Sirius?" Dumbledore frowned, sitting up a bit straighter. "What were his last orders?"

Kreacher bared his teeth in the same way that a goblin would; a smile of cruel enjoyment that really did not belong on an elf. "Kreacher be ordered to deliver letter to muggle woman, bring potion to half-blood godson, and to cleanse Black House."

"Cleanse the house?" asked Snape, curling his lip into a sneer. "Pathetic elf. This house is even filthier than you are. Black can't control a simple House-Elf, even in death."

"Don't you speak badly about Sirius, filthy Death Eater!" cried Remus, standing.

Tonks sighed aloud as she gently massaged her temples.

Kreacher raised one hand, fingers poised in a snapping motion. "Kreacher be ordered to cleanse Black House of Phoenix Order."

That was the last thing that they heard before the world gave a sudden sickening lurch, sending them careening to the side. However, when they hit the floor it was asphalt, not the hardwood floor of Grimmauld Place.

"What the bloody hell!" Molly Weasley shrieked as she pushed her formidable bulk to her feet.

"Language," quipped Tonks as she too pushed herself up. She looked around. "What just happened?"

A cackle drew their attention to the open door of Grimmauld Place. They realized that they were all on the street in front of the Black House, their belongings scattered around them. "Kreacher did as he was ordered!" the elf shrieked, pounding his chest like a gorilla. "House of Black is cleansed!" He cackled loudly again. "Now Kreacher does his last task; join his ancestors on the wall of the Black House!"

Dumbledore watched in horror as the door to the house was closed, barring him access. He could feel the wards springing up around the building, preventing unwanted visitors entry. And, with Sirius gone, it would stay that way.

"Harry!" he suddenly gasped out. The elf had mentioned bringing a potion to Harry. If Sirius was foolish enough to not allow Dumbledore, the most powerful and brilliant wizard alive, into his house, then who knew what he could do to Harry!

With that on his mind he apparated away to Petunia Dursleys house.

* * *

**A/N: I _really_ didn't like how this chapter turned out, but this was my best version of it. I felt like there was too much going on, but I didn't have much else to talk about. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME! I promise the next one will flow better!**

**Did anyone catch the _Thor: Dark World_ reference?**

**Thanks to AnarchicMuse for beta-ing.**

**Just to clarify, Clint IS Harry's father. A few people didn't seem to get that. However, he didn't recognize Natasha later and she didn't remember him.**

**Dumbledore is basically senile in this. He has COMPLETELY misguided and foolish ideas. Everyone else just blindly follows.**

**I demand REVIEWS as payment for my update. Except from the irritating fool who keeps asking for updates. How rude!_  
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